The Road Not Taken
by My blue rose
Summary: AU. Little Harry Snape has lived his whole life in Hogsmede with his parents Petunia and Severus Snape. But his life is about to change when the truth about his family and his place in the wizarding world comes to light.


**A/N: Can't believe I wrote something this long! This story came to me when I was thinking what if Snape got over Lily the summer after fifth year by hanging out with Petunia? They lived pretty close together and they both had reason to commiserate over Lily at that point, so what would happen if it turned into something more? Maybe if there is enough interest I'll write the story of how they fell in love someday. I imagine Severus and Petunia to be loving but strict parents and rather old fashion, although that isn't unusual in the wizarding world!**

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**Chapter One: Home**

Harry clamored up the apple tree, ignoring the scrape the rough bark gave to his knees as he reached the second highest branch. He could see all of Hogsmeade Village up here. From Zonko's (which he was forbidden to enter until he was seventeen) to the Three Broomsticks (where a sweet smile would win him a free butterbeer from Rosmerta) he could see the golden thatched roofs, bright in the afternoon sun. He could smell a sweet scent in the autumn air that meant Honeyduke's was making toffee, he'd have to stop by tomorrow and beg a taste from Mrs. Flume.

He jumped off the branch, laughing as his magic slowed him down so that he landed lightly on his feet at the base of the tree. It was almost like flying! Dad said he wouldn't let him have a broom until he was thirty, which was unfair 'cause said that Dad was twenty-six and Harry knew _he_ had a broom, though he didn't us it often. He scrambled back up the tree again and once more leapt into the air, imagining that he was a dragon gliding to the ground.

"Harry James Snape!"

Harry winced guiltily. His Mum was coming towards him her hands on her hips, mouth set in a stern line.

"What have I told you about jumping from that tree?" she demanded.

"It's dangerous?"

"And?"

"Uh…you said if you caught me throwing myself off this tree again my backside would regret it." He said this fast, hoping she might have forgotten the last bit.

"Come here right this instant, young man."

Harry obeyed grudgingly, dragging his feet until he was standing before his mother. She was wearing a white dress that had little yellow flowers on it and her blonde hair was braided and tied with a bow. She looked him up and down and sighed.

"Just look at yourself!"

Harry did. His trouser knees were torn; his green jumper was splattered with mud and had bits of leaves stuck to it. He frowned. He hadn't realized he was so dirty.

"And it's almost time for dinner, too. Go get cleaned up, your Father will be here any moment."

He raced into the cottage, happy the he had avoided punishment, at least for now. But he needed to change fast! Dad expected his boys to be 'presentable' at the table. That meant not being dirty or wearing play clothes and never eating with your hands or playing with your food. He tugged off his jumper as he entered the bathroom and kicked off his trousers, remembering to put them in the dirty clothes basket and not the floor—he didn't need Mum any madder at him than she was.

He peered into the mirror above the sink and scrubbed his grubby face until it was no longer streaked with dirt. He didn't bother to brush his hair 'cause it just stuck out all over the place anyway. Dad would charm it flat whenever they went someplace nice. He darted out of the bathroom in his underwear, hoping Mum wouldn't catch him. She didn't approve of running around half naked.

He made it to his bedroom without being spotted. He shared the room with his older brother Silas, who was sitting on his bed reading, again. While Silas was fun to play with most of the time, Harry wished he wouldn't spend so much time reading, especially when it was still nice enough to play outside. Remembering that it was dinner soon, he went to the wardrobe by his bed and put on a pair of black trousers with a pressed creased. His Dad liked trousers that were still creased.

He took off his black play shirt and threw it on the bed; he would hang it up later. He put on a white, starched, long-sleeved shirt and black vest with a bottle green handkerchief it the pocket. Harry didn't like this outfit; it was too tight and his sleeve cuffs itched. But his Mum thought he looked handsome in it and he thought it was worth wearing through dinner if it would make her happy. He would have even put on the green and gold tie that went with it but he couldn't figure out how to tie the knot by himself. Silas had put his book down and looked at him, raising an eyebrow in question. Harry wished he could do that. His dad could do it too and though he'd spent hours in front of the mirror practicing, he just couldn't manage it.

"You get in trouble?" he asked

"I was flying."

Silas's frowned. Silas used to jump off the tree with Harry until a few months ago when he landed badly and broke his arm. Dad fixed it right away but Silas was too scared to go flying again. Harry wished he had a broom. Then he wouldn't need to fly by jumping of the apple tree. He would even let Silas borrow it sometimes. His brother shook his head and sighed, just like Dad. Harry hated when he did that. Silas was seven, only a year older than him, but he sometimes acted as if he was a grown up.

Silas stood up and brushed his hair behind his ears. His brother had long hair that just touched his shoulders. He said it made him look sophisticated. Harry thought it made him look like a girl. He knew that he wore it like that 'cause dad had long hair and Silas like it when people told him he looked like his father. Harry knew he look more like his mum. People often said so and he had green eyes like hers (though they weren't the same shade). He did get his dad's black hair. He just wished he also got his eyebrow.

Silas had gone over to the wardrobe and put on his 'evening dress' as Dad called it. It was the same as his except the handkerchief in the vest pocket was royal blue rather than green. He even had his blue and silver tie on. Harry smiled and hugged Silas.

"You're the best brother in the world, Sy!"

"Just remember you own me one when I'm in trouble, Lucky." Harry nodded. Lucky was the name of the kitten he'd gotten for his birthday Silas had started calling him that because both Harry and Lucky had black hair and green eyes.

"Boys, diner time!" their mother called from the kitchen.

He was careful not to run down the hall but walk with Silas. His dad was already sitting at the table, sipping a cup of tea. His eyebrow rose at the sight of them.

"Rather formal tonight, are we not?" his eyes lingered on Harry, who couldn't keep from shuffling his feet.

"Good evening, Father." Silas said and took his place at the square table to the right of their dad.

Harry sat down across from Silas, making a face. They only had to call Dad 'father' in public but his brother had started doing it all the time 'cause he thought it made him sound like a grown up. He cheered up as his Mum began serving Sheppard's Pie. It was his favorite. Children weren't supposed to talk at the table unless they were spoken to, so he was intent on eating and drinking his milk (he was trying to drink more than usual so he would grow taller than Silas who was now ahead of him by a whole two inches).

Dad was complaining about a Hufflepuff first year named Stan Shunpike who had melted his third caldron this month. Harry giggled a bit at that. It was hard to imagine anyone doing anything so stupid as melting a caldron. He wouldn't be able to sit down for a week if he did anything like that! But he knew better than to even think of touching Dad's potion stuff in the basement, let alone do anything that would melt a caldron.

"It seems the dunderheads get worse every year, Tuney." His dad's voice was dry but one side of his mouth curved upwards so Harry knew he wasn't really angry.

"I still don't understand why Professor Dumbledore won't let you ban students from your class who are a danger to themselves and others."

"Your guess is as good as mine, Dear. Now," he looked at Harry and Silas. "What did you boys get up to today?"

"I'm done with the chapter on caldrons in the Potioneer's Primer you gave me. But I don't understand what it means about the 'inherent magical resonances' when it talks about caldron types." Silas said.

"Ah, I am not surprised. That is a discipline too advanced for a primer. It is not even characteristically covered in a potions class. You shall have to take O.W.L. Arithmancy if you truly want to understand the magical theory behind certain substances and their effects on potion making."

Silas nodded. Harry felt a little jealous. He had tried to read some of that book but it was too hard. It had too many big words he didn't know yet. He glanced at his plate. It was empty except for a small pile of peas. He hated peas but he knew his mum would make him eat them tomorrow for breakfast if he didn't eat them now. He put them in his mouth and swallowed them with milk so he wouldn't have to chew.

"And what did you do, Harry?"

"I did my maths work so I got to play all afternoon."

"Oh? What is five multiplied by four?" Harry smiled. Mum was teaching him multiplication. It was hard but he liked it more than reading. He was even better at it than Silas was.

"Five times four is twenty. Five times five is twenty-five. Five times six is thirty—"

"Yes, thank you Harry. Maybe you should take Arithmancy, since you are so good with numbers." Dad smiled at him and chuckled softly. Harry beamed back.

"Harry, tell your Father what else you did today?"

"Uh…" he looked down at his empty plate and squirmed. He couldn't lie; Dad _always_ knew when he lied.

"I jumped from the tree again." He risked a glance up at his dad. His lips were in a thin line and he had set down his fork.

"Harry, come here."

Harry got up from the table bracing himself and walked to his father, who picked him up. But instead of placing him over one knee and spanking him like he expected, he sat him in his lap and wrapped his arms around him. He smelled spicy liked the woodshed and the linseed oil that he coated caldrons with to store them.

"Do you understand why your mother and I don't want you to jump from the tree?"

"'Cause I might break my arm?" he looked at Silas.

"That's one of the reasons, yes. Although we are more concerned that you will break your neck. Your magic protects you now, but it might not always. In fact, as you develop you will lose this kind of accidental magic. Why do you keep disobeying us?"

"I like to fly," Harry whispered. This was worse than getting a spanking.

"I thought as much. How about a compromise? I will get you a toy broom, provided that you use it responsibly."

"My own broom!"

"A _toy_ broom. It won't go higher than three feet, but it will be good training for when you get a real broom."

"Thank you, Dad!" he hugged his father, burying his face into his robes. Dad hugged him back then set him back on his feet. "Don't thank me. It was your mother's idea."

"Thanks Mum!" his mum laughed.

"Anything to keep you out of that tree, sweetie."

"Go change into you night clothes, boys." His dad said.

Harry sprinted for his room thinking about his broom.

"No running in the house!" Mum called after him.

Harry carefully hung up his clothes; they weren't dirty enough to need washing yet. He put on his green footie pajamas. They were his favorite and had little snitches darting across the fabric. His brother put on his footie pajamas that were blue and had fluffy clouds drifting across the cloth. Still grinning about his broom, he tacked Silas to the floor. His brother twisted out from under him but Harry grabbed his legs and hung on. They did this most every night, wrestling to see who would get to brush their teeth first. Silas was bigger than Harry and he always won so Harry wasn't surprised when a minute later he was in a headlock and his brother was rubbing his knuckles into skull.

"Give up?" Silas asked. Harry struggled for a few more moments before he gave in.

"You win," he said and his brother went off to brush his teeth. One day he would beat Silas, he just knew it. He needed to drink more milk.

After he had brushed his teeth, they made their way to the living room. The carpet was a deep red that matched the armchairs and couch. The walls were paneled with dark wood the same as the coffee table and bookshelf. Best of all was the large fireplace made of black stone that took up almost an entire wall of the room. A large fire crackled in the grate and Harry's cat, Lucky, was curled up on the rug in front of it.

As much as Harry loved his lessons with his mum in the mornings and his playtime with Silas in the afternoons, this was his favorite time of the day. His dad would sit on the couch and grade papers on the coffee table. Silas would sit in an armchair and read or play chess with Dad. His mum would knit in her armchair or sometimes she would read a story to them and explain how it was like growing up in the muggle world. Harry couldn't wait to use a microwave someday.

Harry would usually lie in front of the fire playing with his toy model Chinese Fireball, that hovered a foot off the ground and had wisps of smoke curling from its nostrils. He usually ended up in a battle between his model Quiddich team and the dragon. The little men on brooms would dodge the little burst of flame from the dragon who had already eaten the pinhead sized snitch and a bludger.

Tonight Mum wearing her blue nightgown and was knitting what looked like a jumper for Dad out of sable yarn. Silas had chosen the white pieces from the chess set on the table and was sitting on the floor across from Dad, who had changed into his black silk nightshirt and slacks. Harry sat down on the red and gold rug next to Lucky and scratched her head and under her chin until she purred.

"Harry, why don't you read to us?" Mum asked, holding out a thin black leather book.

"Do I _have _to?" his parents had started having him read out loud to them at night to help him with his reading.

"Unless you would rather go to bed?" Dad said wryly.

"No, I'll read." Only _babies _went to bed this early.

He took the book, which was The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and turned to his favorite story The Wizard and the Hopping Pot. He read slowly, sounding out the more difficult words, until he had finished. Then, because Dad and Silas hadn't finished their game (though Dad _always_ won) he read another story. The Tale of the Three Brothers was his second favorite story. He remembered the first time Dad had read them Beedle's stories (they had been a gift from Professor Dumbledore). His mum was a muggle and Dad's mum hadn't told him stories like this when he was a kid so they were all interested.

Silas had said that he wanted the cloak of invisibility. Dad said he wanted the Elder wand. Harry had protested at this. The wand was obviously bad! But Dad had said the wand in itself wasn't good or bad. He said that he wouldn't be so foolish as to tell anyone he had it and he would use it to keep his family safe. Mum had said, rather quietly, that she would like the stone. Dad had stood up and hugged her then.

But Harry hadn't been able to answer when asked what he would choose. The wand would be cool. Who wouldn't want the most powerful wand ever? But the cloak would be cool too. He could go around Hogsmede unseen and throw snowballs at people and they wouldn't know it was him! But maybe he would wantthet stone, if only so that his mum wouldn't look so sad.

Dad and Silas were done a little before he finished the story.

"Harry, come sit by me," he patted the space on the couch next to him. "We need to talk."

He did as he was told, glancing questioningly at his brother, who shrugged. His dad put an arm around him and gave him a little hug.

"Your mother and I think you are old enough now to know the truth. You too, Silas." His dad took a deep breath before continuing.

"Harry, we are not your real parents."


End file.
